I am incredibly excited to announce the official release of my first published non-fiction book, The Biblé: Robert III Version. It’s been a long time coming, and I’d like to thank all my fans for their support during the writing and editing process. I poured twenty-five minutes of my heart and soul into this book, and then almost double that for the subsequent revision, cover design, and writing of this post.

I know there’s a lot of buzz going around about the book, so I’m just going to try and knock out all the rumors and questions right here:

– –

How well do you predict it’s going to sell over this first month?

OK, answering on total gut instinct: 100,000 copies.

That’s a lot. You don’t think that’s a little presumptuous?

Nope.

What kind of genre would you describe it as?

I’d label it part spiritual, part action, part mystery, part humor, part romance, part self-help. My ultimate dream is to have a copy in each individual section of the library. As I’ve said before, this book breaks down the accepted standard of a “readable book.”

Wait. Is it true that there is no content in it?

Yes.

Um, OK… Let’s see… Does the the Biblé have any relation to the highly popular book of a similar name, the Bible?

Honestly, I’d never made that connection until just now. So no, none at all.

Somehow unprepared for a photo I took of myself.

So customers are essentially paying $13.99 for a blank 250-page, bound book labeled the Biblé: Robert III Version?

Christians wear crosses around their necks to emphasize they’re Christian all the time. Muslims put a dot on their foreheads. Jews wear small hats. By carrying around this book, you’re simply saying, “I proudly don’t lean one way or another religiously.” And to answer the question, yes.

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Here’s the official description:

The Biblé is the first spiritual book of its kind. It is for every man, woman, and child who has no desire to become a better human being or gain any sort of deeper understanding of life. In fact, the Biblé contains zero content of any sort, so you can be ensured that there is no chance of gaining any motivation to improve your life by helping others.

What it does contain:

250 cream-colored pages

a front and back cover, with glossy finish

What it does not contain:

religion

words

Once you’ve made it through all 250 blank pages, it is Robbie’s personal guarantee that you will feel absolutely no different than before you started.

“Gloriously unsatisfying.”
– A New Yorker

“Still trying to figure out why I purchased this.”
– Anonymous

“An easy read.”
– an illiterate

“It serves as a good sketch book? I don’t know what you want me to say about it Robbie. There’s nothing in it.”
– Lisa, Robbie’s girlfriend

“Confusing at parts.”
– Robbie Sherrard, author of The Biblé

– –

Excited as I am? Pick up your copy right here. And yes, it’s for real published and available on Amazon.

To help promote the release of the book, I’ve organized a book signing tour. Here’s the most recent schedule:

4/18/2010 – Bethlehem, PA – Moravian Bookstore

4/25/2010 – Bethlehem, PA – Barnes & Noble

4/29/2010 – Whitehall, PA – Borders

Rest of tour – TBD

It should be noted that I didn’t manage to secure actual space in the store to sign books, but I’ll be setting up a small table in the parking lot next to my bicycle. Don’t hesitate to come on by!

A few months ago, I was approached by Lehigh’s paper to draw some cartoons. Despite submitting a controversial Excel diagram that set back Lehigh’s Green Rating another five years, they must have liked my work. Because an hour before deadline, I got an email from an exasperated editor looking for a cartoon. After almost five minutes of work, I scribbled together a very shitty looking picture with a caption. In the process, I had unknowingly created the controversial piece of the week for the Brown and White.

There are few things funnier than holy men getting wasted.

I thought it was pretty tame too.

What offends me is that none of the priests have ears.

@Not Amused: I do find unusual the way you talk. Thanks for the input Yoda.

Now I'm trying to decide whether I was trying to be offensive or not.

At least I have the Greeks behind me, the exact people I was intending to offend. Oh well. At this point, my two-minute attention span had run its course and I had lost interest in the comments. I did take notice of how the word “bitching” was censored. So I took it upon myself to post the most aggressively worded comment I could, just to see how the censor worked.

– –

Three days later, I was notified that my comment, “shit balls, just testing! ;O” got rejected.

Another long night on the job. Ralph hated stakeouts. He sat alone in his car, keeping a steady supply of caffeine in his veins just to make it through the night. The elementary school seemed calm and undisturbed. The only movement was the moths dancing under the streetlight. He sighed and reached for his coffee—

TAP, TAP, TAP

Ralph: What the balls?

Ralph dropped his coffee and rammed his knee into the steering wheel. He looked out his window to see Sam smiling down at him, a fine chick in the arm that wasn’t still tapping the window.

TAP, TAP, TAP

Sam: Buddy! Hey! What are you doing here?

Ralph lowers the window.

Ralph: Sam! You’ll scare the rapists away! Get out of here!

Sam: You’re fine, Buddy! Rapists don’t hang out here.

Ralph: How do you know?

Sam: Well, I used to hang out here.

Ralph: … Who’s your friend?

Sam: This is the girl I wanted you to meet. Ralph, Sam. Sam, this is Ralph. Just call him Buddy.

Ralph nodded his head and shook her hand through the window.

Ralph: Nice to meet you… Sam.

Her breasts bounced in the moonlight.

Ralph: (To Girl Sam) Sam, listen… there’s no way I’m going to be able to call you that. How about I just call you “Antha.”

Girl Sam: Perfect! That’s what all the ladies call me at work!

Ralph: Really? So what is it that you do?

Antha: I work at Victoria’s Secret with the working girls – I’m not a model myself, well I used to be, but now I’m focusing on corporate. They’re saying with my potential, I could be CEO.

Ralph: That is unbelievable, Antha.

Sam: Isn’t she amazing? I was showing the Johnsons that mansion over on Ridge Way at an open house, and Antha just happened to be there too.

Ralph spots two rapists.

Antha: And I just fell head over heels, right babe?

Sam: Haha! You sure did.

Sam leans down and pecks her on the cheek while cupping her breast. Buddy uncomfortably checks his phone. No one had called or texted him.

Sam: Well, Buddy, Antha and I are going to get going. She’s going to show me some of her work ideas.

Ralph: Sounds awesome. I’m going to look for rapists.

—

Ralph comes home and hears noises coming from Sam’s room. Sam and Antha are being loud.

“Oh! No! Don’t put it there! No! Don’t jump me! Ahhhh! …king me.”

Ralph busts into the room. Sam and Antha are playing Checkers.

Sam: Buddy. What’s up?

Ralph: Nothing. Sorry. Just got home from the stake-out.

Ralph slowly closes the door. He returns to the kitchen and throws some water on his face. Ralph doesn’t know how to feel anymore. His best friend, his roommate, his partner was hanging out all the time with this new chick and her outstandingly perky breasts. He decides to drown his sorrows by watching Bad Boys II and eating sugar-coated cereal. While taking the cereal from the cupboard, he notices a small box labeled, “Sam’s Emergency Drugs.”

Ralph pulls it out and turns it over in his hand. Inside is a small, white pill. Taking a deep breath and a small glass of water, he downs it. Ralph stands around waiting for something to happen, so he proceeds to the couch and begins screaming.

Ralph: Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!

Sam busts into the room in a clown costume. Antha is dressed as a safari guide.

Sam: What’s wrong?

Ralph: I don’t know… something has just… come over me. I feel… different.

Sam: Well, how different do you feel?

Ralph: You know (baiting Sam) … different.

Sam: This is ridiculous. Antha and I are getting back to our games.

Sam walks out of the living room, into his bedroom, again cupping Antha’s breast along the way. The line between reality and imagination seemed to be blurring. Ralph passes out on the couch. He doesn’t even notice his phone buzzing, or the text message that reads, “OMG 911!”

“Robbie in!” I exclaimed my new tagline, pumped my chest twice, and then flashed a peace sign as I entered the Special Winter Olympics Party being held at Lisa’s house. My friend Elijah and I were throwing a themed party celebrating the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics.

Lisa delivered me a subtle punch to the back of the head, “Robbie, seriously. Shut up. Your stupid catch phrase is so embarrassing.”

Ignoring her as usual, I casually wandered over to the two guests, Elijah and Lisa’s roommate Abby.

Elijah: “Hey Robbie, I’m not sure people really understood the whole theme behind this thing. You did tell them to dress as a country, right?”

Me: “Um, yes. And I think when they see THIS—“

I ripped off my smock to reveal the Star of David across my chest.

“—they’ll understand.”

Elijah: “YES. YES! ISRAEL. I KNEW IT. You continue to be awesome.”

Me: “Agreed.”

Lisa and Abby shared a concerned look.

Lisa: “First off, not only did Robbie not tell anyone about the theme, but he also didn’t even invite anyone else.”

Abby: “Thank god. Everything about this idea was inappropriate. The poor name choice, the costumes, and the opening ceremony isn’t even happening tonight. It was yesterday. This whole thing seems like it would be a little racis–”

I cut Abby off by throwing the Torah that was tucked in my belt at her.

Me: “No. I am going to make this party happen.” I bent to my knees and made the sign of the cross on my chest. “I swear to Moses I will.”

I winked at actually Jewish Elijah while somewhere in the world a priest’s head exploded. Elijah nodded back.

Elijah: “Hell yes he will.”

– –

An hour later and I had somehow managed to fill every seat and then some. All of my friends were representing countries from all over the world, including Somalia, Canada, and Texas.

While everyone was having a good time drinking and talking, I had drunkenly become heavily involved with the preliminary rounds of curling.

Me: “How hard is this shit? It’s glorified bowling.”

I began practicing my curling technique in the hallway, impressing no one.

After the commercial break speed skating came on, which I also deemed easy as balls.

Sam skips out of the room, again leaving Ralph dumbfounded, but this time holding eggs and milk.

– –

One week later.

Sam had been finding some success in real estate, leaving Ralph a little conflicted. His own numbers were down this week, mostly because Sam had accounted for around 20% of his arrests. Sure Ralph didn’t love Sam’s drug addiction, but he didn’t know this new Sam. He had drive and passion for his work. Just yesterday he had caught Sam networking on popular professional social media website LinkedIn.

Ralph is on his computer.

Ralph: “Come on… Sam has to be doing something bad… let’s check the history. What’s this? LinkedIn, LinkedIn, LinkedIn! This is awful!”

Sam steps in.

Sam: “Hey Ralph!—“

Ralph: “Buddy.”

Sam: “Listen Buddy. I can’t go to the game tonight. I could be closing on a huge deal.”

Ralph: “Oh yeah. Awesome. Are you closing with some of your awesome LinkedIn buddies?”

Sam: “What? Oh Buddy no, LinkedIn isn’t for meeting potential clients, it’s for career networking. Although that wouldn’t be a bad idea.” (Sam winks at the camera) “Listen, you’ll get yours. Just keep your head down, work hard, and you can do anything in life.”

My friend Dave recently got in a fight defending the honor of his roommate, which is probably the most awesome thing I’ve ever heard. From my understanding, it was a four on two cage fight. Around 2 AM, four bros came rolling up to their door to pick a fight with Dave’s roommate over a disagreement about a lighter.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Dave got up from the couch to see who was there. From the fire in their eyes and aggressive pounding on the door alone, he could tell it was going to be trouble. He opened the door.

Dave: “Can I help you fellas with something?”

Douche 1: “Where’s Frankel? He owes me a fucking lighter.”

His boys behind him licked their lips and pounded their fists together menacingly.

Dave: “Look man, we don’t want any trouble. You know that you have no right to that lighter. I’ll get him, but he’ll just tell you to fuck off.”

Douche 1: “Yeah, go get him.”

Dave turned around to Frankel sitting on the couch.

Dave: “Frankel, it’s for you.”

Without hesitation, Frankel stood up and walked to the door like a total badass.

Frankel: “What the fuck’s up guys?”

At that moment Douche 1 jumped him, and began kneeing him in the chest. Dave hopped in and grabbed the Douche 1 from behind, immobilizing him with a swift elbow to the soft of his neck. Douches 2 through 4 started filing in to attack. For about a minute Dave and Frankel traded blows with the clan of Douches. But it was four on two, and Douche 3 had a little bit of weight to him.

Suddenly, three giant rugby players at a dead sprint towards the house begin yelling maniacally. It was their third roommate Luke and his two friends making their way back from the bar.

Upon seeing the three monsters approaching, the foursome of Douches scattered like the bitches they were.

The next day, Dave recounted this story to me. Like five times. Later that night, he hit me up on G-chat.

—

Dave: now that were housemates, if i get in a fight you have to help out. its standard rules

me: yeah dawg, i understand. that’s why i’m getting so big. we all saw me in the muscle shirt today.

Dave: that helps, but you also have to have some balls. im no big shot right now.

How Dave sees himself.

me: dude. i have balls.

Dave: I’m just saying you were questioning what you would have done in my situation yesterday

me: same as you i think, i wouldn’t have let my boy go down obviously

Dave: all I’m saying is there should be no thinking about it. you take a black eye for me, as i will for you. you know that’s always a risk of starting a little tussle

Sent at 8:49 PM on Tuesday

me: i’m telling your story to lisa

Dave: make me sound badass

me: i just made you sound so fucking awesome, because that’s the image i have in my head

Dave: cause i fuckin was, takin on a double team for my boy

Sent at 8:53 PM on Tuesday

me: i have fought so many people

Dave: i dont doubt it. i got your back next year too in case the townies pull a knife or something.

me: righteous dawg. it’s good to know that. shit like that happens. i was thinking about carrying a weapon next year.

Sent at 8:56 PM on Tuesday

Dave: what kind of weapon

me: bat

—

Moral of the story: If you do something remotely cool, there is no limit to how awesome you can make yourself sound.

The job search continues. The only two recently open positions I know of are top professional golfer and late night television host. Now it’s hard to pass up the golf position because of all the poon, but I just feel like television host intern is way easier. Here is my submitted video resume.

The fresh scent of February brought only one thought to my mind in the form of my mother screeching through the phone – “You need to get an internship this summer. Like a real one.” As a self-described rock star with no marketable skills, I had the cards stacked against me. But through a little creative margin fudging and lying, I managed to turn three lines into a full resume.

The next hurdle I faced was what is known as the “cover letter.” For one, I had no idea what it was. Two, it struck me as a royal pain in the ass. Because I was simply prostituting myself out by applying to every single internship available on Lehigh’s career services website without discretion or standards, the specific cover letter writing would make the process even more unbearable. So I decided to write a versatile, generic cover letter that I could send to all companies ranging from CollegeHumor to Douche Bank.

– –

To Whom It May Concern:

Let’s cut to the chase. I love your company. Rather than brown nose you any further, here is a short description of my work experiences.

For the past three years, I have been a work study in the Dean’s Office of the business school. Most of my time is spent talking to my three female superiors about their grandchildren and the current humidity of the air in the office. They often bake me things and give me their sons’ old pants.

This past summer I worked as a manager of a team of advertising sales representatives. Throughout the summer, I got kicked out of three stores, got five girls’ numbers, was given over $80 of free chicken, and learned a swear word in Thai. Kee nok. It means “bird shit.”

The summer before last, I got an offer to be a supply chain intern. I blindly accepted to work directly under a hefty woman who wore a mouth guard. Other than her resemblance to John Goodman, all I remember is that Facebook was a restricted website on the company’s network.

Me preparing for a backflip.

During the same summer but before that offer, I was serving as a lowly accounting intern at a small wellness company. What you may not be able to extract from my resume is that I was the creator of the only company-wide game of Survivor: BeBetter Working Edition. While both fun and mildly confusing, the game ended abruptly when the first tribal council coincidentally coincided with the firing of the CFO. Unfortunately for him, I had the Cup of Immunity.

The summer before, I was a warehouse laborer in a petroleum supplier warehouse. It mostly involved fork truck races, listening to “Hey There Delilah,” and building forts out of oil buckets. My closest friends were Ramon the Innocent Sixty Year Old Immigrant with an Inhuman Sex Drive, TJ the Gangster Who Showed Me His Gun, and Frank. My most memorable and disturbing moment was when Ramon explained to me in his Spanish accent what a golden shower is.

During high school summers, I worked as a bus boy and cook in a breakfast-lunch restaurant called First Watch. It is well known in West Virginia as the largest employer of both high school students and drug dealers. It was during this time I was first hit on by an old man, stunting my puberty for six months.

My next job will hopefully be at your company, where I can do all of the responsibilities listed in the application.